


Valentine's Day (Adam Tries)

by groff



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Attempted Romance, Cute, Dry Humping, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Romance, Sloppy Makeouts, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-28 20:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groff/pseuds/groff
Summary: Eric finds flowers in his locker on Valentine's Day. It could be the start of the Epic Teen Romance he's been waiting for. Or maybe someone is just messing with him.





	1. Gifts

“I hate this holiday,” Eric grumbles as he and Otis park their bikes. “It’s all so! Cheerful and romantic and everyone has someone but me.” 

 

Otis elbows him playfully, hitching his backpack up on his shoulder. “Don’t be bitter,” Otis tells him. “You’ll find someone. You just have to give it time.” 

 

“How  _ much  _ time? I’m a teenager! I’m in my prime for dramatic, romantic, sexy romances! I should be,” he gestures to the various couples lounging around the courtyard, “making gross displays of public affection and living it up!”

 

“You’ll find someone,” Otis repeats, but his attention clearly isn’t on Eric. His eyes are scanning the people milling about, searching for-

 

“Otis!” Otis whips around to catch Ola, who happily flings herself into his arms. “Happy Valentines day!” she says. She’s got a single rose clutched in one hand, clearly meant for Otis. 

 

Eric grunts in annoyance and turns away. “Should have known better,” he grouches as he slumps towards the school. Of course Otis wasn’t feeling particularly sympathetic towards Eric’s single status; for once, he had someone to celebrate the romance holiday with. 

 

If Eric had thought the outside of the school was full of unbearable couples mushily mooning over each other, the inside of the school is just as bad. Romance is in the air and everyone around him seems to have been bitten by the lovebug. People he didn’t even think were actively dating are swooning over someone. 

 

“Stupid holiday,” he mutters, stomping to his locker. “Stupid happy couples with their dumb heart shaped chocolate and flowers and whatever else-” he shoves his key into his locker, twisting it moodily. Normally, he loves Valentine’s Day. It’s sappy and romantic and he loves how in love everyone seems. This year, he just doesn’t feel it. No one is in  _ love  _ with him, he doubts anyone even likes him like that, and it’s just depressing. 

 

He’s in the middle of grumbling about how extra everyone is being when he opens his locker. He stops in the middle of his rant as his eyes land on a small bundle of flowers. “What the shit,” he whispers, reaching into his locker to pick them up. They’re a mostly daffodils, but in the center of the bunch is a red carnation. “What the shit,” he repeats. He searches for a note, but there isn’t one to be found. 

 

Holding the bouquet in one hand, he slings his backpack so he’s holding it over one shoulder. He unpacks his bag, setting his books in a neat pile in his locker, mind reeling over the flowers. Aren’t flowers supposed to mean something? What the fuck were daffodils supposed to mean? 

 

He stares at the flowers in his hands. The blooms are bright if not slightly wilted. 

 

“Tromboner.”

 

Eric jumps and manages to stifle a yelp. He shoves the flowers into his locker and slams it shut, whirling around. “Adam!” he says. “Good morning.” 

 

Adam eyes him with that same distant expression he always has. “Flowers? Got a boyfriend?” 

 

Eric laughs nervously. “I don’t know who they’re from,” he blurts out. 

 

There is a small quirk to Adam’s lips, not quite a smile but almost. “Guess you’ll have to find out.” With that, he saunters off. 

 

Eric slumps against the lockers and lets out a shaky breath. Things had been so strange between he and Adam since the Music Room and the Biology Lab. Adam had disappeared for a few weeks, and even the rumor mill hadn’t churned up anything that Eric felt was distinctly fact. Then he had reappeared and reinserted himself into Moordale life like he had never been gone. They had been ghosting around each other, having short interactions that just weren’t the same as before. For one, Adam hadn’t shoved him into a locker or stolen his lunch money or even his lunch. And for two, when they spoke Adam never had the same tone as before. The words were almost the same, but not quite. Something was off, and Eric couldn’t place it. He wanted to say it was friendly, almost flirty, but that couldn’t be right. 

 

Eric can’t decipher what’s up. It’s frustrating and confusing. Adam has never liked him before, and a few indecipherable moments between them that were surely born out of teenaged horniness didn’t change anything. 

 

Eric hates that he might have a tiny, teeny, itty bitty crush on him. He blames it on the blowjob. And the weird half smiles. 

 

Eric locks his locker and heads to his first class. He’s still grouchy about the whole Valentine’s Day shit, but he feels a little better. A little lighter.

 

~~~

 

He wanders back to his locker after his first class and finds Otis there, sans Ola this time. “Have a nice little rendezvous?” he asks teasingly. He and Otis didn’t share most of their classes, but he would bet that Otis didn’t attend his. 

 

“Shut up,” Otis says. Eric swings open his locker to exchange his books. “Flowers?” Otis asks in surprise, peering over his shoulder. “Who gave you flowers?”

 

Eric glares at him. “I have lots of secret admirers!” he exclaims indignantly. “Why is it so stunning that I would get flowers on Valentine’s Day?” 

 

Otis rolls his eyes and moves to open his own locker. “You were snarking just this morning about how you don’t have anyone to celebrate with.” 

 

Eric growls at him and yanks out his second textbook. A small scrap of paper flutters to the floor. 

 

“And a love note?” Otis asks as Eric stoops to pick it up. “Have you got a secret boyfriend I don’t know about?”

 

“If I’ve got a secret boyfriend, he’s so secret even I don’t know about him,” Eric says, unfolding the sheet. He squints at the poor handwriting, and manages to make out: 

 

_ Roses are red _

_ Violets are Blue _

_ The Sun shines bright _

_ But not as bright as you _ .

 

He feels his face heat as he refolds the note and sets it back in his lock. What is this, third grade? He’s embarrassed and oddly flattered, as well as a bit disgruntled since someone is consistently breaking into his locker. “Shitty, cheap locks,” he says. He ignores the warm feeling of pleasure in his gut. 

 

~~~

 

He doesn’t go by his locker after his second or third class, but he does after his fourth, just before lunch. When he opens it, he’s not surprised to see a third gift. He’s not sure if the shit poem really counts as a gift, but whatever. This time, it’s a chocolate cupcake. He picks it up. It’s lopsided and crumbly in his hands, and the person who frosted it had clearly put the pink frosting on well before the cupcake had cooled, causing it to act more like a glue for the clumpy pieces than a decoration. There is an awkwardly shaped heart piped onto the top. 

 

“It’s probably poisoned,” he says, but he can’t keep from smiling. 

 

~~~

 

After lunch, he finds Adam leaning against his locker. He’s trying to look casual, but there is an awkward tilt to his shoulders that makes Eric wonder how long he’s been waiting. “Do you mind?” Eric asks. “I need to get in my locker. I have class.” 

 

Adam gives him one of those almost smiles and Eric’s stomach swoops. “Classes? Is this a school? I never would have guessed.”

 

Eric rolls his eyes. “If you actually went to classes, maybe you would have.” 

 

Adam’s almost smile becomes an actual smile, and he steps away from the locker. He bows mockingly as he does so. 

 

_ What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, _ Eric thinks. He watches Adam suspiciously as he pulls out his key and unlocks his locker. He yanks it open and examines the contents. Nothing seems out of place and there are no new gifts. 

 

“Did you enjoy the cupcake?”

 

“You!” Eric slams his locker shut and whips around to face Adam. “You!” he sputters again. 

 

Adam outright  _ grins  _ at him, pleased as punch. “I have no idea what you mean, tromboner.”

 

“Are you messing with me?” Eric demands. He crosses his arms over his chest, annoyed and flustered. “Because I don’t appreciate being toyed with.”

 

The grin drops and for a second Eric thinks he sees something almost like insecurity flash across Adam’s eyes. Then he hardens back up, his defenses rising. His face goes back to that distant half-smile. “I’m not messing with you,” he says, tone quiet and serious. “Not anymore.” 

 

He leaves and Eric wants to toss his books across the hall in a fit of irritation. What the hell kind of alternate reality has he found himself chucked into? 

 

He reopens his locker to swap out his books. 

 

~~~

 

He avoids his locker for the rest of the day. It’s a pain to carry around all of the heavy, awkward texts he needs for his afternoon classes, but he doesn’t want to face the possibilities of meeting Adam or receiving another confusing, cliche gift from his thus far  _ unconfirmed  _ admirer. He knows that Adam had confirmed that it was him, or that he had something to do with it, but Eric loves his current position neck deep in denial. Considering the possibilities is too confusing. 

 

He trudges there at the end of the day, half dreading and half hoping as he inserts his key and swings his locker open. Inside is a tiny red box, tied with a red ribbon. He wishes he could convince himself that he was upset about it, but the flutter in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach speak otherwise. He glances around - no Otis yet - then slides closer so he’s standing as close to his locker as he can get. He unties the ribbon and slides open the box. 

 

Inside is a key, an industrial key. A tag tied to it says, in the same sloppy handwriting as the poem,  _ The Key to my Heart.  _

 

_ Ugh,  _ Eric thinks.  _ This is so sappy and disgusting.  _ He loves it. 

 

He detaches the tag and picks up the key. He turns it over in his hands. Realization dawns on him. The key to the -

 

“Eric!” 

 

He turns. Otis and Ola are walking towards him, hands swinging between them. “Are you coming over to play Smash Bros with us?” Otis asks. 

 

“Um,” Eric stutters. “Maybe later, but I have to go check on something.”

 

Otis nods like this is perfectly normal. He practically has hearts in his eyes when he grins at Ola. “Shall we, then?”

 

“Disgusting,” Eric groans. 

 

When they walk off, Eric looks at the key again. Time to find out if his hunch is right. 


	2. Candles

Eric slides the key into the lock of the music room and it turns without protest. His palms feel clammy as he hovers, hand on the knob. His knees feel weak and there is an insistent flutter in his chest. “There’s no way,” he murmures, forcing himself to push the door open and step inside. As it swings shut behind him, he can’t help but gape at what is laid out before him. 

 

The room is dark, but there are tiny tea lights on every surface. All of them are lit, casting the room in a flickering glow. The music stands have been shoved off to the side, and a blanket is spread across the floor. Two taller candles have been stuck to a paper plate with their own melting wax, and a small pile of plastic tupperware is stacked just next to them. 

 

“Romantic, right?” 

 

Eric turns his head. Adam is standing to his left, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He’s looking at Eric through his eyelashes, which cast long shadows across his cheekbones. “Adam,” Eric breathes. He knew as soon as he saw the key that that is who he would find here, but he certainly hadn’t expected all this. “What’s going on?” his voice is quiet, almost a whisper. 

 

Adam shrugs and rocks back on his heels. His hands twist in the fabric of his jacket. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

 

Eric turns to face him fully. “Well, yeah!” he exclaims, waving his hand at the room. “But that sure as shit doesn’t explain all of this!” He splutters for a minute, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Adam and the candles and  _ Adam.  _ He’s flustered and flattered and all together confused. His voice rises in pitch. “We had the, the  _ thing  _ but then you left and then you didn’t even talk to me after you came back!” 

 

Adam takes a step closer, nodding. “I know,” he says, his voice a quiet contrast. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to bring it up after,” he bites his lip. “After I was gone. 

 

“Where were you?” Eric demands. He’s dead set on dragging an explanation from Adam, even if his insides are melting. 

 

Adam glances away. “My dad sent me to a military school. It took some convincing to get him to bring me back.” He shrugs. “And when he did, like I said, I just didn’t know how to talk to you again.” 

 

Eric scowls at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “So you decided a grand romantic gesture on Valentine’s Day would be the best way to break the ice?”

 

The tiny smile on Adam’s face was hopeful and almost bashful. “Is it working?” 

 

Eric lets his hands fall to his sides with a sigh. “No,” he says forcefully, then backtracks when Adam’s face falls. “Yes,” he amends. “But we have to talk about shit, Adam. You can’t just suck my dick and then ghost me for months and then pull this and expect everything to be fine. Especially after all of the other things you did to me before the dick sucking.” 

 

Adam let out a puff of breath. He rubs the back of his neck with one hand while the other remains tightly fisted in his pocket. “I know. I know sorry isn’t enough but,” he steps closer, bringing him into Eric’s space. “I am. Sorry, that is. For everything. For pushing you around. I should never have done those things, and I want to make it up to you.”

 

Eric squints up at him, his head tilted just slightly so he can see into Adam’s face. “You want to make it up to me by using every romance cliche in the book?” 

 

“I also kinda want to date you?” 

 

“Date me,” Eric deadpans. His stomach swoops. 

 

“Yeah, I mean-” Adam groans, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I’m bad at this,” he admits. “I’m bad at feelings and at wooing people, and at apologizing. I’m a shit person and I’m impulsive and I do dumb stuff. I want your forgiveness more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my whole life, and it took me being sent away to realize that. As awful as the military school was, the worst part was that I didn’t get to see you.” 

 

“Adam-” Eric starts, but Adam is on a roll now, words pouring out of his mouth like a waterfall. 

 

“At first I didn’t realize how much I missed you, and maybe saying ‘I miss you’ is stupid because I’ve really only ever been mean to you. But then the longer I was there, the more apparent that it was that the only person who has ever really seen me, seen through my bullshit, is you. At Aimee’s party, when you were drunk out of your mind, and then at the dance, and then all the times in between when you would look at me and actually see me. I know that’s misguided as hell, but I just!” he takes in a gulp of air and looks Eric directly in the eyes, his expression softening. “I just like you. I can’t stop, and I’ve tried. I like liking you. I like you more than I’ve liked anyone in my life.” 

 

Eric takes in a shuddering breath. He reaches out a hand, brushing his fingers over Adam’s arm. “I like you, too,” Eric mumbles. 

 

Adam stares at him like he’s grown a second head, then lets out a choked laugh. “You say it so easily.”

 

“I do, though,” Eric replies. “I have for a while.”

 

Adam touches Eric’s hand tentatively, then presses their palms together before interlacing their fingers. “Good,” he says. “If you didn’t, I would have set my mum’s stove on fire for no reason.”

 

“You didn’t!” Eric gasps, aghast. 

 

“I did,” Adam nods solemnly. “It took me three tries to make that cupcake.” 

 

“It was shit,” Eric tells him with a grin. “But I appreciate the effort.” 

 

They stand there for a long moment, Adam idly swinging their connected hands between them. Eric breaks the silence. “What did the flowers mean?”

 

Adam looks at him then away quickly. The back of his neck goes red in the candlelight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

 

Eric squeezes his hand and shuffles closer. “Come on,” he says. “Daffodils and a red carnation?” 

 

Adam grumbles something under his breath, his eyes firmly glued to the floor. 

 

“What did you say?”

 

“New beginnings and admiration?” 

 

“Oh my God,” Eric laughs. “Oh my God!” 

 

Adam glares at him indignantly. “What?!” 

 

Eric rests his forehead on Adam’s chest, shoulders shaking with laughter. “You’re such a sap!” he bursts out. “Adam Groff is a huge sap!” 

 

An arm circles his waste, drawing him gently closer. “I’m not,” Adam complains, but it’s half hearted at best. 

 

“Did you look up flower meanings before you got them?”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“So you just knew off the top of your head? What flower meanings are?” 

 

Adam pauses and Eric chuckles. He slides his free hand into Adam’s jacket pocket. “I’m teasing you,” he clarifies. “I love them.” 

 

Adam laughs nervously. “Well, good. Are you hungry?” 

 

Eric draws away far enough to look up into Adam’s face. Even though he’s several inches shorter, pressed this close he can feel Adam’s breath against his cheeks. If Eric leaned up on his tiptoes just a bit, they’d be close enough to kiss. “Please tell me it’s not more cupcakes.” 

 

Adam shakes his head. “Sandwiches and some cut up fruits and shit. Much easier to make.” 

 

Eric grins broadly. “Sounds amazing.”

 

~~~

 

The sandwiches are soggy, but Eric doesn’t care. He eats without complaint, sitting with his legs crossed next to Adam. Their knees touch. They talk in between bites, and any doubt Eric had about this whole situation fades the more they do. Adam’s voice is stilted at times and he fidgets awkwardly with his clothes, the tupperware, the blanket, the candles, and just about everything else within his reach. Eric has to subdue his amused chuckles when Adam’s voice gets a little pitchy with nerves. He tells Eric about military school, they talk about classes, Eric tells him about how disgusting Ola and Otis are. It’s nice. 

 

When they finish eating, Adam carefully stows the empty tupperware in his backpack. Some of the tea lights have gone out, so he replaces them, keeping the room glowing with tiny flickers of fire. 

 

“You brought extra?” Eric asks when he’s settled back next to him on the blanket. 

 

“I wasn’t sure how long we’d be here,” Adam says. “I didn’t want to have to, like, ruin the moment by turning on the lights if you stayed.”

 

“If? You doubted I would stay?”

 

“Obviously.” Adam moves the tall candles off to the side carefully, then lays flat on his back on the floor. He taps the space next to him. “If I were you, I probably would have punched me and left.” 

 

“Lucky for you, then,” Eric says, carefully arranging himself next to Adam on the floor. This feels more intimate somehow, with his shoulder pressed to Adam’s as they look up at the shadows dancing across the ceiling. “I got my fill of punching after I punched Anwar.” 

 

Adam brushes his hand across Eric’s, then gently laces their fingers together again. Eric can’t help the hitch in his breath. “What happened, then?” Adam asks. “You went all dark, like someone had snuffed out a candle.” 

 

Eric shrugs and shuffles closer, tugging Adam’s arm onto his stomach so he can play with his fingers. “Otis ditched me for Maeve, and I ended up in the city without my coat or wallet. Some douchebag assaulted me, and when I finally got home, Otis and I got in a fight. I didn’t feel like myself, so I shut off.”

 

Adam squeezes his fingers. “I’m glad you’re back to normal, now. I wouldn’t have told you then, but I was worried.” 

 

Eric lets out a huff of laughter. “Adam Groff, worried about me?”

 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Adam grumbles as Eric skims the pads of his fingers across the edges Adam’s fingernails. “I said I liked you, didn’t I?”

 

“It’s just weird. It might take some time to sink in.”

 

“I’ll make you more cupcakes, if that’ll help.”

 

“Absolutely not!”

 

Adam laughs and Eric grins up at the ceiling, pleased. He thinks that Adam should definitely laugh more. 

 

“So do you wanna date me? Maybe?” 

 

Eric considers. He definitely wants to date Adam. He wants to know more, he wants to see all the sides of Adam there are to offer. They have history together, and, yeah, maybe it’s not all positive. Today has proven to Eric that Adam is willing to put in the effort, and even though he knows one day doesn’t mean that everything will go smoothly, he still wants to try. He might get his heart broken, but he thinks that it would be worth it. 

 

“Yes,” he replies eventually. Adam lets out a relieved puff of breath. The muscles in his shoulder and arm relax, even though Eric hadn’t realized they had gotten tense. “Maybe on the down low, for a time. Until we find a good balance, ya know?”

 

“That’s great,” Adam agrees. “Absolutely.” He rolls suddenly, until he is on his hands and knees above Eric. His hands frame Eric’s head on the floor, and one of his knees carefully slides between Eric’s thighs. “I can be subtle,” he says. “Can you, though?”

 

Eric glares at him but he can feel a grin tugging at his lips. “That’s incredibly rude, Adam. I am the epitome of subtle.”

 

Adam hums and shakes his head. “I’m not so sure about that.”

 

Eric pokes him in the chest with a laugh. “Fair enough,” he concedes. “It won’t be for forever, just until we’re both ready.” his eyes catch on Adam’s. There’s an intensity there that makes Eric’s heart thump and his breath catch. 

 

“I want to kiss you,” Adam says abruptly. “Can I kiss you?” 

 

Eric is already leaning up on his elbows to meet Adam halfway. He manages to gasp out a rough, “Yeah,” before their lips slide against each other. Heat rolls in Eric’s abdomen. Their lips melt together for several long seconds before Eric lets his head fall back with a thump on the floor. 

 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whines, already feeling himself hardening in his pants. 

 

Adam makes a deep sound at the back of his throat, chasing Eric’s lips downwards. The kiss glances across Eric’s cheek as Adam shifts down to his elbows so they are closer together. Eric presses his hands to Adam’s ribs, shivering as his heavy, hot weight settles over him. He’s fully hard now and hot, so hot.  

 

“I could say the same about you,” Adam whispers in his ear before Eric turns his head to capture his in another long kiss. 

 

Eric can’t stop his hands from wandering. He presses his fingers against Adam’s ribs and across his shoulder blades. He runs his hands down Adam’s spine and back up, letting one hand thread into Adam’s hair as the other traces his shoulders, then down his chest and stomach. He lets out a breathy groan as Adam presses his teeth into one of Eric’s lips, then slides his tongue into his mouth. Eric slips his free hand under Adam’s tank top and splays it flat across the warm flesh of his abs. 

 

_ Was he always so toned?  _ He thinks, then gasps when Adam pulls away from his mouth to suck a bruise into his neck. Without the confines of Adam’s lips against his, he can’t help the litany of sounds that pour from his lips. He pants and whimpers as Adam’s teeth graze his throat, lips pressing kisses and tongue tracing patterns over his skin. He releases Adam’s hair so he can slide his other hand under his shirt, nails digging desperately into the muscles of Adam’s back as he squirms. 

 

“Adam,” he moans when Adam finally detaches himself from Eric’s throat. They’re both breathing hard and Eric can feel the hot press of Adam’s dick against his thigh. Adam meets his sultry gaze. His own eyes are blown with lust, half lidded and night-sky blue in the candle lit darkness. “Adam,” he whispers again, prompting Adam to lean in for another kiss. He shifts his weight so he’s leaning on one elbow above Eric. He brushes his free hand over Eric’s face, tracing the lines of his cheekbones before gently palming his face. His thumb brushes across his temple as he presses his tongue back into Eric’s mouth, tracing across his teeth before tangling with Eric’s. 

 

Eric presses into the kiss, his face leaning into Adam’s hand. He digs one hand into Adam’s shoulder and trails the other down his back, pausing to let his thumb dig into each dip of Adam’s spine. When he reaches the base, he slides the very tip of two of his fingers beneath the waistband of Adam’s jeans. 

 

Adam breaks the kiss with a deep groan. “Eric,” he gasps out. 

 

“Fuck,” Eric whispers, bucking his hips into Adam’s thigh. “ _ Fuck. _ Can I touch you?” he pleads. He withdraws his hand and wraps his pinky finger around one of the loops of his jeans, tugging slightly. 

 

Adam nods shakily and leans back down to press more kisses to Eric’s neck. Eric shivers, wrapping an arm fully around Adam’s shoulders, head tilted back to give him free access to the dark, sensitive skin along the column of his throat. He lets his hand drift down Adam’s hip and around until he’s clumsily pulling the button at the front. Adam grunts against the place where his throat meets his neck. He deliberately grinds his thigh against Eric’s crotch, distracting him. He gasps as his hips arch up reflexively. Between the tight press of bodies and the insistent press of thigh, Eric struggles to focus, but finally,  _ finally,  _ the button pops and he slides Adam’s zipper down. 

 

Adam bites down on a fleshy part of Eric’s shoulder when he slides his hand beneath his boxers and grips him. The angle is undeniably awkward, but Eric loves the feel of thick, damp flesh in his grip. He slides his palm across the end of Adam’s length, moistening his palm with the leaking wetness he finds there, before sliding back down and settling into a rhythm. 

 

Adam pulls away from Eric’s neck to kiss him again. It’s sloppy and wet. Adam grinds his thigh more intently against Eric’s dick and Eric finds himself panting into Adam’s mouth, moaning his name. Eric’s rhythm slips when Adam bites his lip again, hips jerking as his body tenses. He throws his head back, whining loudly as he cums in his pants. He shivers through his orgasm and only realizes that Adam has cum too when the full weight of his body settles on top of him. 

 

They lay their panting, Eric’s arm twisted at a weird angle under Adam’s hip. Adam’s breath is hot against his cheek. After a long moment, Adam grunts and forces his arms underneath himself, levying his weight off of Eric’s body. His hand slides out of Adam’s pants and flops to the blanket. It’s sticky and wet. 

 

“Good?” Eric whispers, grinning lazily up at him. 

 

Adam kisses him in response, a chaste and unhurried kiss. 

 

“Let’s try to get our pants off next time,” Adam whispers in his ear, grabbing him by the hips and rolling them over so that Eric is sprawled across his chest. 

 

Eric nods, shifting his hips and wincing. The thick puddle of wetness in his boxers is definitely going to meen an unpleasant bike ride home. 

 

“Worth it,” he mumbles, nuzzling his face into Adam’s chest. He grins and wipes his wet hand across the side of Adam’s tank top. 

 

“Did you just wipe jizz on my shirt?”

 

“Yep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's chapter 2 pals. Leave a comment or a kudos, it is much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> A brief interlude from One Call so I can deliver a sappy Valentine's Day fic (because every ship needs one of those) that is actually just a disguise to write these two making out (eventually). Should be a two shot, expect the next chapter sometime this weekend! 
> 
> As always, Kudos&Comments are always appreciated and much loved! They are the fuel that keeps these fingers glued to the keyboard.


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